Murder for Two by George Harmon Coxe Page A

leave?”
    â€œI don’t remember.”
    â€œWell, what was the nature of that trouble?”
    â€œJohn Perry came to Mr. Lawson with some formula having to do with oil. Mr. Lawson paid him five thousand dollars for it and later when Mr. Lawson perfected it and began to license it, John Perry said he had been cheated.”
    â€œHe hadn’t been, of course?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œPerry assaulted Mr. Lawson. He attacked him with a heavy ash tray and Mr. Lawson had him arrested.”
    â€œDid you know that John Perry is out of jail?”
    â€œN-o.”
    â€œDo you know Rosalind Taylor?”
    Byrkman swallowed visibly and beads of moisture stood out on his sallow forehead. “I know of her.”
    â€œHow would you like to ride down to the station with me?”
    Byrkman drew back, jaw sagging. “You can’t do that.”
    â€œCan’t I?”
    â€œBut I haven’t done anything.”
    Logan was relentless. He leaned forward, his eyes half closed. “You’d have a chance to think if I put you in a cell, and maybe you’d finally figure out that this runaround is getting nowhere. Now did you have a date with Rosalind Taylor tonight or not?”
    â€œYes,” Byrkman said in a voice Casey could barely hear.
    â€œHere or at her place?”
    Byrkman wet his lips and took a breath. “Here.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œShe—didn’t say. She said she wasn’t sure when she could come.”
    â€œDid she come?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDo you know why? Did you know that she was shot to death tonight? In her car. And within a couple blocks of her apartment?”
    Byrkman took hold of the table. His cheeks were chalky now and the breath he had taken whistled out and just then Casey let go with the flashbulb. Byrkman jumped, almost knocking over his chair, then sank back and sort of caved in when he saw what Casey had done. Logan rose, glaring at Casey.
    â€œYou couldn’t wait, huh?” he said disgustedly.
    â€œYou said I could have a picture,” Casey said.
    â€œWell, you got it.” Logan put on his hat and Karen Harding got up and came across the room. “We’ve got some checking to do,” Logan told Byrkman. “You may have to tell some of that story to the D.A. So stick around; I’ll probably want you to come down and see me.”
    They went out. The porch light was extinguished and they stood a moment on the sidewalk. This time Logan took the bull by the horns.
    â€œWe may be at this for some time yet, Miss Harding,” he said. “We can take you home—”
    Karen Harding said, “But—” and looked at Casey.
    â€œOr,” said Logan, “we can find you a cab.”
    Casey didn’t know what Logan had in mind, but he had an idea it might be worthwhile to find out. As for the girl, he decided enough was enough. To take her to dinner and maybe go some place and have a couple of drinks—well, that was one thing; this acting as nursemaid was something else.
    â€œAll right,” the girl said, when she saw Casey wasn’t going to offer anything. “A cab would be fine.”
    They found one at a stand over on Commonwealth and put her in it and she gave Casey her hand. She said she was very grateful to him and hoped she would see him soon.
    â€œShe’s a swell kid,” Casey said when the cab drove off.
    â€œShe’s too nice for you,” Logan said. “I could appreciate a number like that—if I could ever find one on my day off. But no, I have to run into that kind when I’ve got a lousy murder on my hands. Of course,” he added when he shifted gears, “I might call her up some time.”
    â€œSure,” Casey said. “You could tell her how a great detective cracks a murder case.”
    â€œThis detective had better crack this one,” Logan said. “An ordinary reporter wouldn’t be